


Lost and Found

by aroundloafofbread, Wolven_Spirits



Series: Strange Animagus [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Animagus Harry Potter, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Sane Voldemort (Harry Potter), kind of crack, only a little bit of torture, ron and hermione are good friends, they get up to shenanigans, writing and art collaboration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2020-10-11 06:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20541947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aroundloafofbread/pseuds/aroundloafofbread, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolven_Spirits/pseuds/Wolven_Spirits
Summary: Years after winning the war, Voldemort finally found the elusive Potter boy.Of course the boy had gotten stuck in his animagus form. Still, Voldemort was determined not to acknowledge the fact that Potter looked - well, cute.





	1. The Discovery

**Author's Note:**

> A collaboration project with the lovely aroundloafofbread. Written by Wolven_Spirits and beta'd & illustrated by aroundloafofbread.

“I-it was the last DA meeting,” the wizard crumpled before him stuttered out, limbs twitching in the aftermath of Lord Voldemort’s powerful curses. Long had the man tried to resist, but in the end, all fell before the dark lord. “We were working on our animagus forms. There was an e-explosion,” the man panted, forcing his words out between wheezes. 

“And then?” Voldemort demanded when the man - Macmillan - fell silent, gasping quietly in pain.

“G-gone,” the man sobbed. They disappeared. The three of them. Just… gone. No one has seen them since.” Despair coated his words, his hope lost with the disappearance of the golden trio.

“How did this happen?” The dark lord leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Why? Did someone betray them? A spell gone awry? Tell me, blood traitor. Tell me what you know.”

“I - I don’t!” Macmillan denied fervently. “I don’t know why it happened. Or how. All I know is that one moment they were there and the next they weren’t. I swear, I don’t know anything else!”

Voldemort sat back, disappointed that he could learn no more from this man. For three years now he had been hunting the infernal golden trio after they had disappeared during their sixth year at Hogwarts. His victory had been swift with none strong enough to oppose him, but it felt hollow. Incomplete. As if he had cheated his way to power.

So now he hunted. He would find them and destroy them, ensuring his win, his indomitable reign. 

Severus discouraged his obsession, claiming that they had likely killed themselves in their foolish endeavours, but Voldemort was not so sure. He had a connection with Harry Potter, after all. One that he did not fully understand, yet could not deny. And it irked him that the Chosen One could elude him for so long, despite their strange connection. 

At one point Voldemort had used the connection to his advantage - had manipulated the Potter boy to his will. But now the link seemed… distant. Faded. As if something was interfering with it.

And it angered Voldemort to think that someone else might have gotten their hands on what belonged to _ him _.

A wave of his hand had one of his Death Eaters scurrying to remove the sobbing blood traitor from his presence, and he sat back on his throne, a hand reaching up to stroke his chin in thought. If what Macmillan said was true and they had been practicing their animagus transformations, then perhaps there was a different explanation for the warped link. Because while similar, animal and human brains did not work the same way. 

More than once he had sent his consciousness into Nagini’s mind to spy through her eyes. And it always took him a few moments to reorient his thoughts to suit the way Nagini’s mind worked. 

So then, perhaps…

A hint of a suspicion flittered across his mind, but it was gone before he could quite comprehend it. Nonetheless, he dismissed his Death Eaters and sat for a long moment in the silence of the hall, with only the sound of his breathing to accompany him.

Large and empty, the room felt as hollow as his victory.

Closing his eyes, Voldemort ignored the stifling emptiness of his surroundings and instead fell inwards into his mind, to the link he had come to know so very well. 

Once white-hot and electrifying, now it lay almost docile, flowing in a slow and steady beat, muted but for the odd pulse that jumped upon the rare occasion.

He approached it slowly and brushed alongside the tantalizing river of energy and magic - one that made him want to devour what was on the other end. To keep it inside him forever. 

Voldemort pushed away his possessiveness - for such desire would not aide him now. Instead he settled into his baser instincts - those of survival. Of hunger and fear. Of curiosity and wariness.

Remembering how it felt to be a part of Nagini’s mind, Voldemort merged with the flow that linked him and Harry Potter. He released all human thoughts, all complexities of emotions, and drifted forward, slow and subtle, like the snake that he was.

It grew lighter the further he went. There was the beginning of an image forming in his mind. Sunlight and sand. Water. The sound of birds. 

It felt as if he had opened his eyes as the world around him flared to vivid clarity. It was mostly rocky, with coarse sand and bold blue water. There was lush foliage in the distance that was distinctly tropical. 

Around him, dozens of black and white birds lingered, some tending to their young, others just returning from the sea, bellies full of fish. He himself was stretching, slightly warm from the summer sun. He - no, not he. Voldemort was no bird. But - 

Triumph flashed through his veins and heated his thoughts and for a moment there was a strange dichotomy of victory and confusion colliding within his mind. Then his vision blurred and he opened his eyes to the black hall void of all life but his own.

And he smiled.

He had found Harry Potter. He knew where he was. His smile widened, his white teeth flashing in the darkness as he stood, his wand slipping into his hand. 

He would have little need of it, of course, for Harry Potter in his animagus form was no threat to the all-powerful Lord Voldemort. But he would not put it past the boy to flee if given the opportunity. 

He did not know what type of bird the boy was, but he would not risk Potter taking to the sky and losing him there.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he visualized the place he had seen, then spun on his heel and disappeared with a sharp _ crack _ of displaced air.

And he landed almost right on top of a snoozing penguin.

It squawked in alarm, rolling onto its side before bumbling upwards with a clumsy flailing of its flightless wings. It was small, Voldemort noticed as he watched it with narrowed eyes. It had the usual black and white feathers and unique markings around its eyes. But while the others had a trail of white that curled behind their eyes and down, this penguin’s markings looked suspiciously round, one circle around each eye, and a patch just above its eye that looked remarkably like a lightning bolt.

Voldemort stared.

The penguin stared back.

Then it turned, and began to waddle away as quickly as it could, its wings spread out for balance. 

Voldemort watched as it hopped and slid, tripping twice, and then a third time, as it made its way away from him and towards the water.

Then his smile returned and he chuckled, a mocking sound that surely reached the penguin’s ears, for it seemed to redouble its efforts to get away from him.

How.. ado- Voldemort cut the thought off before it could fully form. He strode forward instead, catching up to the wayward wizard with ease. He bent down, and scooped the penguin up into his hands. 

It squawked and wriggled, reaching down to try and peck at his hands, but he squeezed warningly and it froze, before relaxing into a helpless sulk. 

It was surprisingly soft and warm, and it felt rather strong and healthy for a wizard who had spent so much time in its animagus form. 

“I finally caught you, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said, his red eyes gleaming as they stared into the dark soulful eyes of the penguin in his arms. “I will give you this one opportunity to change back. Duel me properly, Harry Potter. Let us finish this.”

The penguin stared at him, then lowered its beak and chirped in bird-like mortification.

Voldemort raised a brow. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered. “You can change back, can you not?”

Its wings flapped half-heartedly

Voldemort stared for a moment longer. “Then I suppose,” he said, “I will have to bring you back with me until you can change back, that we might duel as equals.” Yes, they would duel, and Voldemort would win, and keep Harry as a prisoner - a prize, forever after.

It let out a sad croon, and Voldemort pursed his lips. “It is not _ my _ fault that you stuck yourself in this form.”

The penguin sighed.

Then there was a scrabbling noise behind the dark lord, the sound of two angry penguins, and the sudden feeling of two angry beaks trying to peck at his legs.

Glancing down, Voldemort saw two more penguins, one with a reddish tint to its feathers, and another that had strangely frizzy feathers. They were flapping their wings as if to give themselves further momentum in their attack, but they could not penetrate the thick robes he wore, nor the thick leather of his dragonhide boots.

He glanced at the penguin in his hands. It was staring at him with dark, liquid eyes, and Voldemort wondered if he should perhaps change his plans. He had a strange suspicion as to the identity of the two new penguins, and he tilted his head, eyes narrowed calculatingly.

Then he pulled Harry Potter closer and shifted him to sit in the crook of his left arm, a warm weight against his heart. With his right hand he flicked his wand, levitating what was undoubtedly Granger and Weasley, just as stuck as Harry Potter. They wriggled as they were held aloft in the air. 

“You, Harry Potter, shall be coming with me. I won’t let you escape again. Not ever again.” A questioning chirrup came from the penguin in his arms. “And these two shall be my prisoners, to ensure your good behaviour. They will come to no harm, so long as you do not disobey me.”

Harry Potter wiggled in his little body, then lifted his beak and nibbled gently on the side of Voldemort’s jaw, a soft brush of understanding.

His skin tingling strangely from Potter’s touch, Voldemort gathered the two protesting penguins and apparated home.

He strode down the hall, still holding on to the three birds, as he did not trust them to obey his orders quite yet. He paused as he came upon his potions master.

“Ah, Severus,” he said, watching as the man’s eyes grew wide, his jaw dropping in uncharacteristic surprise. 

“M-My Lord…”

“Prepare a room. A suitable habitat for these three.”

Severus’ eyes lingered on Harry Potter, still wide in slight disbelief, but nonetheless he bowed. “Of course, My Lord…” Weak as Severus’ voice might be, Voldemort was pleased to have such a loyal Death Eater in his service.

Voldemort nodded curtly. “Good. I expect it done within the hour.” Then he moved off again, this time towards the bathroom adjoined to his room. He would fill the bathtub and keep them in there until their room was ready. 

“And if you respect me and my rules,” he told them as he placed them one by one into the water, “I shall allow you to wander freely outside of your room.”

A chorus of chirps rang out in response, and Voldemort nodded in satisfaction, standing and closing the door behind him. 

Finally, he had caught his nemesis. His victory was final. None would stand to oppose him now, and Harry Potter would remain his, now and forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “P-penguins, My Lord?” The death eater stuttered in a horrid display of incompetence.
> 
> Voldemort’s fingers twitched. He swore he would crucio the next person to question him.


	2. Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work is a collaboration. Writing by Wolven_Spirits and art by aroundloafofbread.

“I just fed you a whole bucket of sardines -  _ each _ ,” Voldemort scowled as he strode down the hall, a trio of plaintive squawks following him as three penguins marched behind him, their wings spread as they waddled as quickly as they could, trying to keep up with him. Every so often one of them would trip, taking down the other two, seeing as they were all huddled so closely to each other.

Voldemort sighed as he paused yet again to watch as they reoriented themselves, their chirps restarting with vigour as they bobbed forward again. He ignored the way some of his Death Eaters stared. Really, they should be used to it by now. More than one of his followers had been knocked over by a determined penguin, at this point.

He pursed his lips, eyeing them severely. “Honestly, you don’t even deserve extra fish considering you still haven’t figured out how to reverse your transformations.”

Three unhappy warbles followed his statement, and Voldemort rubbed the space between his eyes. “An extra hour on research today, and you’ll get an extra bucket tomorrow,” he relented. They had been working surprisingly hard, after all. So far they had invented three new spells - somehow coercing Severus into helping them with the actual magic - and had started a competition amongst his followers to see who could outswim and outfish one of the penguins. 

It was an odd activity, and Voldemort would have discouraged it but for the fact that his death eaters were getting more and more creative in their problem-solving abilities just so that they could one day win.

The three penguins crowded his ankle, their wings flapping as they jumped excitedly. Voldemort retrieved a large tome on transfiguration from his robe pocket and placed it on the ground. Immediately the trio huddled around it, one of them pushing the cover open, the other two huddling and chirping over the text.

Shaking his head, Voldemort strode off to do more important things than watching over the three. Honestly, they were much more of a nuisance than he had anticipated, but he was looking forward to having Potter back to his human form. Then Voldemort would duel him again, just to defeat him properly. And then perhaps they would - 

Voldemort halted that thought and forced his mind to focus on his current task of conquering the rest of Europe. Really, he shouldn’t let himself get so distracted. Even if he hadn’t dueled Potter yet, he had still won. Still had the boy in his grasp and at his complete mercy.

As an afterthought he pointed his wand at the trio and placed a ward around them. Anyone who tried to interfere would suffer greatly for it. He couldn’t have anyone meddling with his greatest victory, after all.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort stared at the image of the large fish portrayed in the open book, then at the unconscious death eater lying next to it.
> 
> “I will not be transfiguring any of my followers into fish,” he said, rubbing his temple.
> 
> Harry hopped up and down, wings flapping.
> 
> “I said no, Potter.”


	3. Settling

Voldemort looked up as the door to his study cracked open. Warm light from the hallway streamed in and a small figure peered through the small gap. 

Raising a brow, Voldemort waved a hand. “Enter,” he said. He did not allow a smile to cross his lips. Not yet, at least. 

The little penguin shuffled in, taking a few steps forward before turning around and pushing its head against the base of the door to shut it. Then it glanced up at him, dark eyes pleading as it approached the dark lord’s desk. 

Voldemort sighed and gestured with his wand, levitating the penguin into the chair across from his desk. He wondered if he should just conjure a staircase at this point. The sight of Harry Potter struggling up a set of stairs  _ was _ rather amusing...

“The other two again?” He said, unable to help the small quirk of his lips. Really, the penguin looked so very pained. Never had he thought that an animal could be so incredibly expressive, but of course Potter had to go ahead and prove him wrong.

Harry Potter let out an affirmative sigh as he shuffled around in a circle twice before settling down next to the letter that Voldemort was drafting. He stared up at the dark lord, eyes liquid and pleading.

“It is most certainly not my job to oversee their behaviour,” Voldemort chided. “They are  _ your _ friends. My  _ prisoners _ .” 

A growl-like chirp escaped the penguin. Harry’s gaze turned disapproving. If he could have crossed his arms, surely he would have.

Voldemort ignored it. It wasn’t like he was just going to let such powerful enemies  _ leave _ . 

“One would think you would be used to it by now,” he said instead. Weasley and Granger were, after all, a young couple in love, and most certainly prone to public displays of affection. Being stuck in the form of penguins did nothing to limit such behaviour.

Harry grumbled halfheartedly, beak clicking. His wings stretched outwards and he gave a disgruntled full-body shake before settling back down, peering curiously at the letter on the desk.

“Well, in other news, you will be happy to know that negotiations with France are progressing in a peaceful manner. There have been no objections to my status as Lord of the Isles.” Voldemort tilted his head. “No blood was shed. They have renewed their alliance.”

A croon rang out, and Harry flapped his wings enthusiastically. 

Voldemort hummed in acknowledgement, a pleased smile crossing his face. He reached up almost automatically and ran two fingers down Harry’s head. A crooning sigh escaped the penguin.

“Next will be Germany. They are more cautious than France, but nothing that I cannot handle, I am sure.”

Harry huffed, an impudent, mocking sound. And Voldemort kept his head dipped down, so that the other could not see the fondness that flashed across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “No, I will not bring you along for negotiations, Harry. It is far too dangerous. What? - No, having a penguin along won’t improve my image!”


	4. Sleep

A shuffling sound from the far side of the room had Voldemort jerking upwards in his bed, suddenly awake, his wand sparking in his hand. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dark shadows coiling around the edges of the room.

The shuffling noise rang out again and his head jerked to the right just as a small shadow separated itself from the rest, moving awkwardly with the sound of feet and dull claws scratching at the floor.

Voldemort lowered his wand as his brows furrowed. “Harry,” he said, his tone almost gentle. “What are you doing up at this time of night?”

A warble answered him, sounding somewhat sad, but Voldemort ignored the way his heart clenched. The shuffling grew closer until the penguin was right next to the bed, looking up with a strangely hopeful expression.

Voldemort stared back for a while into wide, liquid eyes, then eventually sighed and flicked his wand, levitating the penguin onto the bed. Then he lifted his blanket and waited as Harry chirped delightedly and snuggled forward, fitting perfectly into the space under his arm.

Lowering the blanket, the dark lord tucked the edges just under Harry’s beak and placed his wand back on his bedside table. The penguin was warm and soft and his head fit perfectly in the small indent of Voldemort’s shoulder. Though he was unused to having anyone quite so close to him, he fell asleep swiftly to the sound of a gentle, crooning snore.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t _care_ if you were dreaming of fish, Harry, you still tried to eat my pillow.”


	5. Dispute

“If they choose to oppose me, they will learn to regret it,” Voldemort snarled as he slashed his hand across his desk, papers flying. Italy would rue the day they snubbed the dark lord. 

Harry clicked his beak angrily at him.

“You think I care about a few pathetic lives? They are nothing in the face of my rule,” Lord Voldemort stood, tall and foreboding as he stared down at the diminutive penguin standing on his desk. 

Harry’s wings were outstretched and his beak lifted sharply. He let out a squawk that conveyed his upset most clearly. 

“No kingdom is built without bloodshed,” Voldemort growled. “Don’t be naive.” He reached out to run a finger along the back of Harry’s head - a gesture that was sure to soothe the angry animagus.

But he was rebuffed by the violent flapping of wings and the snapping of a surprisingly sharp beak.

Jerking his hand back, Voldemort scowled. “You can’t save everyone, Potter. People will die, no matter how many you try and save.”

Harry froze then, dark eyes locked with red. Then he lowered his head, his body hunching. It lurched in a full body ripple. Once, then twice. A strange noise emerged from his beak.

Voldemort frowned, uncertainty wringing its way through his heart. Was Harry sick? Injured, perhaps, and he simply hadn’t noticed?

_ Blargh_.

A foul concoction of partially digested fish and stomach acid erupted from Harry’s beak, splattering all over Voldemort’s desk and scattered papers. Instantly the horrid, gag-inducing smell of vomit reached Voldemort’s nose and he watched in horror as Harry spat out a few more clumps of fish before he turned and hopped off the desk onto his chair, then onto the floor, and finally waddled his way out of the room, not once looking back at the dark lord.

The smell lingered long after Voldemort vanished the mess, as if cursed to haunt the dark lord.

And Harry stopped visiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Voldemort found it difficult to sleep without the small, warm presence he had long since grown used to, well, he certainly wasn’t going to admit it.


	6. Fish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in replying to all of your lovely comments. We appreciate each and every one and will be sure to properly reply soon!

“I warned you,” Voldemort pursed his lips as he stared down at the two sheepish penguins. “That particular wing is full of dark artifacts. If I had not reached you in time, the both of you would currently be strung up and bleeding dry. As you currently have no way of defending yourselves, may I reiterate: _ Do not enter the North wing_.”

Weasley and Granger nodded affirmatively, but Voldemort was sure he saw them exchange glances full of foolish Gryffindor bravery.

“Now get out,” he snapped, gesturing to the door of his study. It creaked open and Voldemort thought he saw a flash of white as a small figure quickly waddled out of sight. He narrowed his eyes but did not bother to investigate as Weasley and Granger hurried out of the room.

He sat back, shaking his head. Ever since Harry had stormed out of his study, the other two Gryffindors had started making all sorts of trouble for him, tripping up his death eaters and setting off wards all over his manor. 

He rubbed his temple, willing his headache and the strange emptiness inside of him to go away. He glanced down reluctantly at the paperwork in front of him. Diplomacy with Italy remained at a standstill, and normally he would have had Harry here to debate with, but now his study was empty, hollow-like without the penguin’s presence.

It was a few minutes later that he heard the slapping sound of webbed feet approaching. He glanced up to see Harry round the corner, a flopping fish held in his beak. Voldemort gripped his quill tightly but kept his expression placid as the penguin approached his desk, clambered up the small flight of stairs leading up to his usual chair, then up again onto the desk. 

They stared at each other for a moment, dark eyes looking straight into vivid red. Between them, the fish struggled.

Then Harry shuffled forward, a muffled warbling noise emerging from his throat. He paused, as if waiting for something, then warbled again, more insistently this time. Harry made a motioning gesture with his head, so Voldemort extended his hand.

With an approving chirp, Harry dropped the fish into Voldemort’s palm. It immediately tried to flop to freedom, but Voldemort was faster. With a flick of his wand it froze, paralyzed and preserved. He inspected it and noted just how healthy it looked, how fresh and meaty it was.

He glanced back at Harry, who puffed up his chest as he stared expectantly at the dark lord.

“Thank you, Harry,” he said quietly, his fingers closing around the gift. It was cold and slimy, threatening to slip from his grasp, but he held onto it tightly nonetheless, a strange warmth spreading from his heart. 

The corner of his lips curled upwards without his permission as he watched Harry plop down next to his papers, a commanding note to his squawk.

Perhaps this meant that he had been forgiven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort paused, the piece of freshly prepared fish partway to his mouth. Harry was sitting next to the plate, eyes wide and longing as he stared at the feast that lay before them. And was that — drool?
> 
> “Would you like some fish, Harry?” Voldemort drawled, internally crooning as Harry instantly lit up.


End file.
